


The Courier

by PeaceHeather



Series: Marvel 'verse [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:04:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceHeather/pseuds/PeaceHeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd come so close. He couldn't fail now.</p><p>The Avengers are called out to investigate a portal opening, and find a refugee carrying a package which he refuses to relinquish to anyone but Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was getting bogged down on the next chapter of Fate's Guardian, and got this idea into my head so I decided to give it a try. Usually for me "bogged down" means I start getting trapped in the need to write tons and tons of useless detail and pointless action, so for this I tried to cut as much of that out as possible and still be able to have a recognizable setting and plot. I'm not sure how well I succeeded past the beginning, but I hope you enjoy it.

"Okay, so satellite readings said the portal opened up somewhere around here," Bruce was saying over the radio, "but within a half mile radius is the best the scanners do. I don't know how long it's going to take you to—"

"Found it," said Clint.

Everyone on the hillside paused to stare at him. He just pointed downhill, to where the slope evened out into a small, snow-covered meadow.

"Tracks come out of nowhere, like they stepped through a doorway. You can practically see the line in the snow." He squinted. "Some kind of scuffle further down, then they veer off into the woods."

The jet flew by low overhead and the commlink crackled again, this time with Natasha's voice on the other end. "Confirmed. Bruce and I can see the tracks you're talking about; I'm going to back us off so we don't obscure the scene while you boys get a closer look."

Clint started picking his way down, with Steve behind him and Tony hovering along a few feet off the ground. "You know, you resemble Legolas a little more every day," Tony said.

"Bite me."

"No, that's _Hunger Games,_ keep your fandoms straight."

"Guys, do you mind?" Steve slid a little, caught his balance against a boulder. "We're far enough away from that farm village that we should be able take care of this without any civilians getting involved, as long as we don't waste any time."

They reached the start of the tracks, and Clint hunkered down. "Huh. That's unexpected."

"JARVIS, you recording?… Okay, lay it on us."

"I only see three people walking through this portal… from the stride patterns, all about the same size as us. But they didn't come through as a unit. This guy in the middle was walking… scratch that, he was _limping_ … but these other two, you see the difference in the stride lengths? They were running."

"Doesn't sound like much of an invasion force."

"No… they didn't come through at the same time. Limping guy was first, then the two runners." He stood, and followed the tracks with his gaze to an area of churned-up snow, about fifty paces out. "Looks like they caught up to him, too."

They trudged down a little faster, the hill becoming less steep but still hiding boulders under the thick blanket of white.

"Well, I'd say they definitely weren't on the same side," said Tony.

"What is it?" asked Natasha.

Clint picked up the thread. "The three of them fought… you'll need to call in the contamination crew or whatever, and the science guys will definitely want to come and take samples, 'cause we have one patch of red blood over _there,_ and two alien bodies over _here,_ only their blood is… purple, maybe?" He turned one corpse over with his heel. "Dressed alike. Matching weapons. The one closest to me has manacles hanging off his belt."

"So, less 'invasion' and more 'escape'," said Steve.

"Looks like. The one they were after was the guy with the red blood. It was in his tracks farther up, where he was limping. He won the fight, though."

If he won the fight," asked Iron Man, "why is there another scuffle over there?" He hovered, pointing to an area just past a row of boulders.

"One set of footprints here…" Clint walked over to the boulders and climbed up on the nearest. "Huh. Stay back a second, would you, guys?" He stood there squinting at the snow, tipping his head this way and that, then hopped across to another boulder and studied the scene a little more. "Well, things definitely just got weirder."

"The suspense is killing me," said Tony.

"Well, there's only one set of tracks in, and one set of tracks out, but… you know, if I didn't know better, I'd say it looks like he Hulked out." He slid down off the boulder. "No, he definitely Hulked out. Here's what's left of a pair of pants. And yep, there's some scraps of shoe leather here too. Over there's where he first fell over."

Bruce's voice came over the airwaves. "Does it look like I need to, uh, suit up?"

"Eh, I don't hear any rampaging going on, and it's a three-hour flight from the tower to here. According to your readings, that portal opened, what, maybe four hours ago? Might be he's calmed back down by now."

"Whatever he did wasn't as smooth as your transitions," put in Steve. "He was here long enough to make a pretty good mess. The ground is torn up in a couple places."

"I tear up the ground," Bruce pointed out.

"Not with claws," said Clint.

"Do what now?" Tony hovered a little closer.

Clint scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "He came in here on two legs, but he left on four. And those look like some fuckin' _huge_ bear tracks." He took another couple of steps. "Still bleeding though, and one of his feet is dragging."

"Why would he change _after_ the fight?" asked Steve.

Bruce hummed. "Adrenaline rush after the fact? Pain from his injuries?"

"Well, we still gotta find him, either way," said Tony, "and can I just say, the suit's not exactly built to maneuver in the woods? I'll still have weapons if we need 'em, but if he's got any kind of speed to him I'm going to make a great chew toy."

"Understood." Steve blew out a breath, fogging the air. "We, uh, probably shouldn't make any assumptions about how intelligent he is in this shape. I mean—we've all gotten used to the Hulk, and he's gotten used to us, so it's not usually too bad. I don't want us to… react out of habit, I guess."

" _Bear claws_ ," said Clint.

"It's a good point," said Bruce. "Although, on the bright side, he _could_ be a little easier to reason with than my other half…"

"But there's no guarantee, and chances are just as good that he'd be worse," finished Natasha.

"He's an alien, odds are good he doesn't speak English anyway." Tony launched himself farther up into the sky. "JARVIS, give me infrared… well, would you look at that."

"Not too far off, I take it?" asked Steve.

"Eh, I don't know for _positive_ that it's him, but these tracks out here are aimed almost straight at a really big heat signature, maybe a quarter-mile in."

"Question," said Bruce. "Since we've more or less decided that this isn't an attacker so much as a refugee, what's our approach going to be? I'd rather we not go in guns blazing on someone who might not have even planned to come to Earth."

"No, you're right," said Steve. "Let's assume our visitor is non-hostile until he or she proves otherwise. If they need help, maybe we can offer it. If nothing else, Thor can probably help them get to where they belong."

"I'm going to land," said Natasha. "Bruce can stay with the jet on standby."

* * *

"Got a visual," murmured Clint, a little while later, lying flat on his stomach on a frozen rock outcropping. The clouds had rolled in while they searched, and even under bare trees the light was getting pretty dim. "Definitely not a bear."

"I've been watching you close in on him," said Tony. "He hasn't moved the whole time."

"He ain't sleeping," said Clint, "but at least he isn't tearing things apart." As if on cue, the alien monster gave a guttural, bellowing cry and pawed at its neck. "Since I got outvoted on the tranqs, which one of us gets to go up and say hello?"

"Well, Nat, now that you're here—"

"If you make even _one_ 'Beauty and the Beast' reference, Stark, I will convince JARVIS to replace your entire workshop playlist with nothing but Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. For a month."

"You are a cruel, cruel woman, Natasha."

"I'll go," said Steve. "Stark has the armor but not the maneuverability. I've at least got the shield, and of the rest of us, I'm…" he sighed. "I'm the one who can handle taking a hit."

There was a round of mumbled agreement, none of it too happy.

"Come at him from the east," said Clint. "It'll give you both a clear line of sight on each other. If he's smart enough to figure out you're not attacking, that should give you a head start on talking him down."

"And if he's not?" said Tony.

"If he's not, I've got a clear line of sight too."

* * *

The creature saw him coming and roared again, but didn't move to attack. "Hey. Hi. It's okay," said Steve. "It's okay. I don't know if you can understand me or not, but I'm not going to hurt you. You're all right."

Steve kept up the running commentary as he approached cautiously, figuring he'd seem like less of a threat if the alien could hear as well as see him coming. He got within about ten paces before the creature heaved itself to its feet, or tried to, and shoved itself back until it was pressed up against a large tree trunk. Steve bit back a wince; it was definitely wounded, he could see its blood staining the snow where it had been lying. Its panting breath sent steam billowing into the air.

"It's all right. It's all right. I won't come any closer, okay?" Steve held up his hands and took an exaggerated step backward. Found a convenient boulder and sat down. The creature watched him with wary golden eyes.

"Hey, Cap? Give us a description, would you?"

"Well, uh, he's pretty huge… I'd say maybe six, seven feet high at the shoulder if he were standing up? But he's… If this is what happens to aliens when they go Hulk, then Bruce could count himself lucky. He's not… he seems like he's built wrong, if that makes sense."

"How so?" came Natasha's voice.

Steve took a deep breath and watched the creature's ears swivel forward. "He's kind of a mishmash. Kind of… okay, specifics. Sort of rusty orange for the most part. Huge, like a bison, but you know how bulldogs are proportioned, really broad and heavy in the front and a lot smaller in the back? And bowlegged like they are. But like Hawkeye said, the feet are like a bear's, with some seriously intimidating claws on them." Steve stood slowly, watching the creature tense up. "Let's see… The head is mostly like a bison, too, large and heavy. Tusks—uh, like a wild boar, not a walrus—nose looks like a lion's, maybe, but the eyes have sideways pupils."

"What, like a horse?" asked Clint.

"Yeah, only I think the ears are from a rabbit. Um… I said he was mostly orange, but there are black accents, and they don't make much sense either. Kind of a sparse mane, sticks up—maybe like a hyena or something. Only that gives way at the shoulders to… okay, you know how alligators have the heavy ridges on their back, those really thick scales? He's got those, all the way down his spine. Really short tail, or maybe no tail. But then on the backs of his front legs he has black _feathers_ sticking up."

"Yeah, that's a mishmash, all right," said Bruce. "I'll stick to just being an oversized person, thanks."

The animal roared, and Steve stumbled back a step as it thrashed. "Hold your fire, I'm fine, I'm fine!" It jerked its head wildly back and forth, then clawed at its neck furiously. "Huh," said Steve when it settled again, panting and groaning in the still air. "Now it has antlers."

"It didn't before?"

"Nope. Ridged, sort of spiky. His head is bleeding where they broke the skin."

"So it's still transforming," said Bruce, and Steve could hear the frown in its voice.

"It's in pain, too," said Clint. "And that's not the first time I've seen it go for its neck like that. Can you see anything from your angle, Cap?"

"I can try." Steve stepped forward cautiously, keeping his hands in sight, and the creature bellowed and glared balefully at him. "Easy does it, okay? I don't want to hurt you. You look like you're hurting enough," he added under his breath.

The animal grunted in what sounded like agreement, and Steve stopped in his tracks.

"Wait. Can you understand me? Or is that wishful thinking?"

Another grunt, followed by a groan as the creature shuddered. One of its hind legs kicked involuntarily, claws gouging into the frozen ground as its eyes shut for a second.

"Well, if you really can understand me and I'm not just imagining it… can you—would you let me get closer, please? I wanted to see what was bothering you on your neck."

Those oddball rabbit ears laid back and the alien monster bared its teeth, but then to Steve's surprise it lowered its head: slowly, every muscle tense, glaring at him the whole time with one golden eye.

It only allowed Steve to take another couple of steps before grunting at him again, but that was enough. "He's wearing something like a cross between a collar and a manacle, around his neck," he reported. "Solid metal, tight to his skin. Looks like the edges are sharp, they're cutting into him a little in places. And he's clawed himself pretty good, trying to get at it. And then there's fabric underneath it, too, but that might be leftover clothes from before he changed."

"I've got a hunch," said Tony. "Wonder what'll happen if you can get that off of him."

"You think it's causing his transformation?" asked Bruce.

"Maybe, yeah."

"Okay, then." Steve took another step, and the creature snapped its teeth, baring them at his shield. "What, this? I'm not going to hurt you. Here, let me prove it." Still moving slowly, he worked the shield around to hang off his back; the creature watched him, but didn't grow aggressive. "I wanted to see if I could get that collar off of you," he said, and the ears swiveled forward in response. "We, uh, we know a little bit about involuntary transformations like this. Well. Not quite like this."

The alien snorted, creating another cloud of steaming breath.

"Will you let me try, at least?"

That golden eye stared at Steve for a long moment, before the creature shuddered again, its muscles rippling as it groaned. Finally, it lumbered up from its slouch against the tree and shifted its weight a little closer to Steve.

"Watch yourself, Cap," said Clint softly. "And try not to block my shot."

To pretty much everyone's worry, the alien swiveled his head around and looked directly at the outcropping where Clint lay, still stretched out on his stomach. His nostrils flared, but otherwise he didn't react, and after a moment it turned back toward Steve, who hadn't moved.

"You, uh, you ready?"

The creature huffed, and Steve stepped closer. It took a bit of searching, but Steve relaxed by degrees as the animal shifted its head down, then up to give Steve better access, and apart from another round of shuddering in pain, did not otherwise move. It even let him step between its front legs, under its throat, and around to the other side, wedging himself between the alien's body and the trunk of the tree.

"Found a clasp."

"Finally," said Tony, still hovering somewhere overhead. "This is like watching someone defuse a bomb, it's nerve-wracking."

"Good to know you care," Steve said absently. He leaned back a little to catch the creature's eye. "Okay, to unhook this I have to pull the ends toward each other, so it's going to get a little tighter at first. But just for a second, and then I'll have it off, okay? We'll get you out of this thing."

The creature tensed, curling and uncurling its wicked claws reflexively as its breathing picked up. Finally it turned its head away, froze, and held its breath, and Steve took that as his cue. With a swift pull and slide, the ends came undone and the collar slipped free.

The creature went _berserk_.

Its roaring screams echoed through the woods as Steve leaped out of the way. "Hold your fire, hold your fire, hold your fire!" he panted, even as he swung his shield around into position. But the monster only writhed in obvious agony, twisting and rolling as its claws gouged the trees and tore up the frozen ground. "He's not attacking. Hold your fire."

The pitch of the animal's cries changed as it curled in on itself, then arched back. "Is it me, or is it shrinking?" asked Clint, standing up from his position. "Looks like you were right, Stark."

The creature's—the alien's—ordeal seemed to go on forever, though it was probably no more than a few minutes. Still, they were minutes full of nothing but screams and torment, as the bestial shape withered, its limbs cracking and reshaping, the flesh creeping across the skeleton in new configurations, the skin changing color. The beast's roars and bellows gave way to the alien's screams, and its—his—voice grew hoarser and more rasping until it finally gave out entirely.

Finally it was over, and in place of an orange, misshapen beast, there was a naked, blue-skinned humanoid lying huddled on the ground, trembling and jolting with the aftershocks of intense pain.

The skin was smooth, with single and double lines of raised tissue following the contours of its body and limbs, and the beast's sparse mane had turned into a head of tangled black hair. There were scars across the alien's back, a bloody cut on his upper arm, and a gash on his calf muscle that was bleeding freely, dripping down his leg. The fabric Steve had spotted earlier turned out to be a simple messenger's bag with a shoulder strap, made of grubby, stained fabric that originally might have been white or cream-colored. Fresh blood was staining the bag's strap from the gouges on the alien's neck, where he'd scratched in an attempt to remove the collar.

The alien dragged one arm under him and struggled to push himself up, but his limbs were still quivering and weak and he slipped on the snow and ice. Steve leaped forward to help, but when he touched the alien's shoulder, he (he?) jerked away, looking up at them with deep red eyes.

He was wet with melting snow, filthy with smeared mud and blood, and clearly caught between fear and exhaustion. There were deep circles under his eyes, purple against the blue skin, and dried blood around the base of the short, curving horns on his forehead.

Steve knelt in front of him carefully. "It's okay. You're safe. Let us help you."

* * *

After everything he'd been through, all the risks he'd taken, the number of times he'd nearly been killed, he had finally made his escape. Made it to Midgard. Now, all he had to do was get his cargo to the right people, and he could finally  _rest_ .

Of course, now that his goal was in sight, that _would_ be the time he would slip up, wouldn't it? He'd been spotted, as he prepared to open the portal to Midgard, and hadn't realized it. In his exhaustion and haste to finally finish his task, he'd staggered out onto the pristine snow, breathing in clean air for the first time in far too long, and had forgotten to close the portal behind him. He remembered, of course, as soon as he heard the shouts of his pursuers, and closed it before more could come through after him, but it was still nearly too late.

To have come so close, only to fail now, was insupportable.

Desperation had fueled his strength during the fight, but he had been hampered, both by prior injuries and by trying to keep his cargo safe, and one of them had snapped a prisoner's collar on him before he could steal the bastard's weapon and put it to good use.

The forced shapeshift, as his magic twisted away from the collar and inward through his body, had been agonizing.

In his new form, the form he was trapped in, he'd dragged himself to shelter and tried to force his weary mind to think, but it was no use. His bestial cries in the forest were as much from despair as they were from pain. He'd come so close. He'd even sent up a flare as soon as he'd arrived, so that Thor and his mortal allies would find him more quickly. Now, when they came, they would only see a beast that needed killing for the protection of their people.

Of course, even in his old form they'd likely have tried to kill him anyway, but at least then he might have been able to get them to listen to him first. Now he couldn't even speak.

He'd come _so_ close.

Then they had arrived, and the best he'd thought he could hope for was that Thor would see the bag he carried, after he was dead, and his package might still fall into the right hands. But they'd surprised him, approached cautiously, with words of reassurance on their lips rather than battle cries and drawn weapons.

The change had felt even worse the second time.

Now he was defenseless, naked and weak as a kitten. Now they would recognize him, and he hadn't even seen Thor, so there was nothing to stop them from killing him anyway, and they'd be even less likely to do anything other than destroy the contents of his bag. Contents that they absolutely required if the Nine Realms were to survive, and they didn't even know it.

So it was a mixture of horror and dawning hope that washed over him, when he tried to push himself upright, and saw that his skin was blue. The soldier was kneeling beside him without a trace of recognition on his face, and even as exhausted as he was, Loki's hope only grew.

He was so close. He couldn't fail now.


	2. Chapter 2

The alien pushed himself up, one-handed, to lean tiredly against the tree behind him. His other arm was held tightly to his side, pinning the bag against his hip. With his free hand, he prodded gently at the collarbone on that side, and winced. Blood from the side of his neck streaked down his bare chest.

"Hey Iron Man," said Clint, approaching the little group in the clearing, "you should swing by the jet and bring back Bruce's emergency pants."

"I, uh, I take it you're not going to need the Other Guy today?" came the voice over the radio.

"You might get to administer a little first aid once we get back," said Natasha. "Our refugee is a little banged up."

He looked up at her with a nod and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His red eyes widened, and he put a hand to his throat, but the best he could do was a rasping little squeak.

"You were screaming pretty hard while you, uh, changed forms," she said gently. "I've seen this before. I'm sure if you rest a little, your voice will come back."

They could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and winced again. His gaze swept the clearing, and his brow furrowed when he spotted the collar, lying on the snow. He reached forward with his good hand, his arm shaking.

"This? You want this?"

The alien made a tired, sloppy "gimme" gesture, and Steve passed him the collar. His other arm wouldn't move, so he had to bring the collar close to his side so both hands could hold it. With a grimace, he bent the metal back, slowly, until a segment snapped off with a burst of light that had the others ducking. Then he tossed the two pieces back onto the snow and slumped back against the tree.

"Yeah, I can see where you'd want to get rid of that thing," said Steve.

The alien nodded and looked around the clearing again, more slowly this time. Warily, he lifted one shaking hand, and reached slowly forward into the space between him and Steve. They all moved back when a bit of green light danced across his fingertips, and he held still, his eyes darting back and forth between them all. When he saw they weren't going to attack, the green light danced, and glimmering filaments drifted out from his fingers to form an image in the air.

"That's Thor's hammer," said Clint.

"You're looking for Thor?" asked Steve, and the alien nodded.

"I'm sorry. He's not here."

A look of desperation followed by utter defeat crossed the alien's face, and he seemed to sag back against the tree trunk, his hand dropping resignedly into his lap. He shut his eyes, but as soon as Natasha took a step they shot open again.

"Wait, no," said Steve, "we can take you _to_ him. He's here on Earth, on Midgard I guess you guys call it. He's just not with us right _now_."

The alien looked them all over in consideration, then shifted his weight and slowly, painfully shifted up onto his knees.

"You want to at least wait till we can get you some pants?" asked Clint.

"There's nobody but us to see," said Steve. "Probably better to get him someplace warm. We can take care of the rest once he's on the Quinjet."

The alien glanced at Steve as if agreeing; then he braced his good arm against the tree and began to struggle up. His legs were shaky, and he was still bleeding from the wound in his leg, but the ice almost seemed to shift to grip his feet and help him stand.

"Neat trick," said Natasha, and the alien turned carefully to look at her in confusion. "The ice?" At that, he turned his frown towards his feet. Looking down made him lose his balance and he clutched at the tree as his knees buckled. When Steve stepped forward to help, he jerked backwards, and nearly fell again.

"I'm only trying to help," he said, but the alien held out his good hand and mimed a pushing motion, as if warding them off. "Okay, but if you change your mind…"

"It's the bag, isn't it?" asked Natasha.

The alien tensed.

"Will you show us what's in it?"

He shook his head, then held his hand out and drew another image of Mjolnir in the air.

She gave a little sigh. "I misspoke. We need to know what you're carrying. If it's a weapon of any kind, we can't let you hang onto it."

He was clearly too tired to control his facial expressions, or maybe his emotions, given the look of helpless denial he gave them. Natasha stared him down, though, and after a second his shoulders drooped. When she reached for the bag, though, he flinched again and clutched at it with both hands.

Steve turned to Natasha. "The main thing you're after is whether or not he's got something in there that will hurt us, right?" When she nodded, he went on, "So how about he promises to leave it alone until we get back to the tower? We can scan it then, or he can show us what's inside, himself. Does that work?"

Natasha still looked dubious, but the alien only nodded solemnly and pushed himself upright.

It was slow going as they headed back to the jet, more so once they left the woods and he didn't have anything to brace against. But he refused all help, staggering and limping along while they surrounded him, his arms wrapped around his middle holding the bag close.

* * *

 

 

The flight back was quiet; Bruce tended their guest's injuries, a little, and helped him into a pair of soft sweatpants that were far too short for him. But the alien wouldn't accept so much as a bottle of water from them, and with his voice gone he couldn't answer any of their questions. Iron Man kept his faceplate down, revealing nothing. The alien studied the armor for a few minutes, and gazed thoughtfully at the blank face, before turning away.

They caught him nodding off later, sagging against the safety harness, before jolting awake. The first thing he did was check that he was still holding the messenger bag.

"It's okay if you rest," said Steve. "We still have a couple of hours before we land. Thor should be joining us a little after that."

"Probably a half-hour later," confirmed Iron Man.

The alien startled slightly at the metallic voice, but shook his head.

"What's in the bag?" Iron Man asked, and Steve frowned at the tone.

"He promised not to get into it," he replied.

"But you and Hawkeye were talking about images, right? He can show us an image of the whatever, right?" The challenge in his voice might have been skepticism over the alien's abilities, or over his trustworthiness.

"We don't know how taxing it is to even create those images," began Bruce, but the alien held up his good hand and light danced across his fingertips.

With a gesture, the glowing filaments drew what looked like some sort of prism, then two more, followed by a disk, or maybe a torus. The alien frowned, and the objects in the image began to move, but his hand was shaking and after a moment the image dissolved into sparks.

The alien blinked in consternation, his mouth open; he tried again, but this time the prism shapes had barely formed before they vanished again. The shaking in his hand was worse.

"Just let it be," said Steve, and the alien leaned back in his seat, frowning.

* * *

 

 

Tony led the team-plus-one down to the containment level, still in his suit. The alien still refused to let anyone touch him, but it wasn't actually that big of a deal. Nat and Barton both hung back with their hands on their weapons, and Steve and Bruce walked with the alien between them. If he was more than just a helpless refugee, he wouldn't get more than two steps before he got his ass handed to him.

Again.

Tony wasn't sure if the rest of the team had figured it out yet, and to be fair, if it hadn't been for JARVIS and the wonders of facial-recognition software, he wouldn't have caught it either. The horns and the blue skin were… actually not that much of a disguise, but they still did the trick.

He just couldn't figure out what Loki's play was _this_ time. The injuries were real; the tracks in the snow told a story that was hard to fake, and nobody could just _pretend_ the level of pain that transformation had caused him. His behavior certainly wasn't the same as last time, either.

So Tony wouldn't put him in a cell just yet. Just an interrogation room. And he wouldn't tell everyone else whom they were hosting just yet, in the interests of not escalating this little détente they had going.

Still. Once Thor got here, things should get interesting pretty quick.

* * *

 

 

"So, here we are," said Tony. "Sit tight, get comfy, Thor should be here before too much longer."

The alien nodded tiredly, and carefully lowered himself into a chair to the left of the door. He looked like he could barely keep his eyes open, but he still held the bag close, pinned under his injured arm.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink? Some water?" asked Steve.

"Or food?" added Bruce. "Although, we don't really know what your species eats. But if we can…"

The alien considered this for a moment. He looked to Steve and nodded, then turned to Bruce. The light filaments from his fingers were dim and flickering this time, as he drew a fish.

"Huh," said Tony. "Pretty realistic salmon."

"We can do that," said Bruce with a little half-smile. "Is cooked all right?"

The alien offered a small shrug.

"Actually, looks like dinner will have to wait," Tony said from the doorway. "JARVIS says Thor just arrived."

He moved to the corner while Steve and Bruce sat opposite the alien, Natasha and Clint having disappeared already. The silence was heavy and awkward, just like in the jet, but their guest only stared at the table or else rubbed at his eyes, and the skin around the base of his horns.

After a few minutes, Steve ducked out and returned with a bottle of water for their guest. The alien winced through the first few swallows, then quickly downed the rest.

"We have more if you need it," said Steve, holding up another bottle, but the alien waved him off. The nod of his head was accompanied by a hand on his chest. "You're welcome."

Finally, heavy footsteps could be heard in the corridor, and soon Thor was stepping through the open doorway. "I am told you requested to speak to—" He stopped, staring, as the alien struggled to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

"He lost his voice shortly after we found him," said Steve.

"Aye, friend Barton told me." Thor couldn't take his eyes off the alien. The alien, for his part, couldn't take his eyes off Thor.

"Did he also tell you he won't let anyone near that bag he's carrying?" asked Iron Man. "Wants to deliver it to you personally, from what I can tell."

Thor stared for a moment longer before blinking, giving a little shake of his head as if to resettle himself. "Empty the bag onto the table," he said, his voice remote and his expression still difficult to identify.

Slowly, painfully, the alien pulled the bag's strap over his head, wincing as he set it on the table. He tossed the flap back and reached inside.

"No sudden moves," said Iron Man, and the alien paused. From the bag he withdrew a little white stone, little more than a smooth pebble, with something carved into the surface. He set it out of the way, on the corner of the table nearest him and Thor.

"What's that?" asked Steve.

"A protection charm," Thor answered. He picked up the stone and examined the carving. "This one is for safety in one's travels, and this one," he turned the stone over, "is for… the closest concept in your tongue is 'camouflage'."

"That's not what you wanted to show Thor," guessed Tony.

The alien shook his head, then, still moving slowly, upended the bag one-handed onto the table. Three objects slid out; the first two were round metal devices with curved edges and a socket in the center, matching the basic outline of the image he'd crafted on the Quinjet; the third was a roll of what looked like soft leather. The alien swayed and braced his weight against the table for a second before unrolling the leather bundle with a shaking hand to reveal over a dozen clear crystals, each one a little larger than a man's finger. They were the perfect size to fit into the sockets on the metal disks.

"Thor?"

Thor's eyes were wide, as he reached out to brush fingertips across the collection. "These are data crystals," he said, "used to store… quite large amounts of data. A single person, reading quickly, would take several days, two weeks perhaps, to go through all the information on one crystal. What you see here is an entire library's worth of information. Assuming the crystals are full," he added, glancing up at the alien.

The blue man nodded, the motion sloppy with exhaustion. His braced arm was taking most of his weight as he leaned over the table.

"It is the end of winter now," said Thor. "By the time one person finished studying each of these crystals, it would be nearly summer. And that assumes they spent the entirety of each day examining them."

"I take it the disks are some kind of reader," said Steve.

"Aye."

"Is there anything like a table of contents?" asked Bruce.

"They are labeled," said Thor, at the same time as the alien reached out to sort through the crystals. He picked one up and looked at them as if asking for permission, then placed it into one of the readers and showed them where to press to activate it.

When Steve turned it on, a three-dimensional image leapt to life in clear, blue-white light, hovering above the table. The writing was in an alien alphabet, but it seemed to be some kind of list. The alien passed his finger through one of the lines of text, and the image morphed gracefully into paragraphs of new text.

"Can you read this?"

"I can," said Thor. He blinked, and reread the text. "These are battle strategies… for an attack against Midgard."

Everyone looked at the alien, who picked up a second crystal and inserted it into the other reader. When he activated the device, Tony leaned forward in surprise.

"Blueprints. I recognize these." He stepped closer, eyes wide. "These are the little hovercraft that the Chitauri flew." The alien passed his hand through the beam, and the image changed. "And those are… holy shit, those are the weapons schematics."

The alien swayed on his feet, just barely managing to catch himself on the edge of the table. Thor stepped forward to support him and, unlike all the other times they had seen, he allowed himself to be touched. Deep red eyes, barely able to focus, met Viking blue; the alien's lips moved, but no sound came out. Green light, flickering and feeble, shimmered across his fingertips, shaping writing that hovered in the air for only a second before fading.

"What did that say?" asked Steve.

"It read, 'Promise me'," said Thor. He clasped one hand to the side of the alien's neck, mindful of the bandages there. "I will. I will read every single crystal. Every line. I swear it."

For the first time since they'd found him, the alien smiled, and his shoulders dropped in relief. Then his face went slack, his eyes rolled up, and he went completely limp, deadweight sagging into Thor's grip.

* * *

 

 

He'd done it. It had taken years, but he'd done it. The information he'd worked so hard to gather, had risked his life to bring back to the Nine Realms, was finally delivered. Only willpower had kept him on his feet this long, but now Thor was here, and had given his promise.

He _hadn't failed_.

He could rest now. Perhaps they would still kill him. Perhaps he would fall into slumber and never wake, but whether or not he did was immaterial. Loki could finally rest.

It was with utter, profound relief that he allowed his eyes to slip closed.

**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is my favorite to wrap up in blankies and take care of. Poor thing.


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha was the one on guard duty when Loki woke up. It was a gradual process; his brow furrowed then relaxed, he took a deep breath, he swallowed and winced. He stirred sleepily, and winced again as his bad arm, bound against his chest, was jostled. Natasha watched as he tried to drag his good hand up to probe at the cracked collarbone, and was halted by the handcuff chaining his wrist to the side of the hospital bed. He tugged again, still barely conscious and fretful, only once.

And then with a gasp he shot upright, eyes wide. The chain of the handcuffs snapped like a shoelace as he pulled his left hand back as if preparing to throw the magic that suddenly glowed there. In his right hand, though his arm was still bound, a dagger appeared, literally out of nowhere.

Natasha was on her feet in an instant, aiming her gun between his eyes.

Loki's gaze darted frantically about the room until he spotted Natasha. He froze, blinking at her in astonishment, until recognition dawned.

"Midgard," he said. His voice was hoarse, and he swallowed again painfully.

"Why'd you come back, Loki?"

He held himself absolutely still for a few seconds; then the glow in his hand gradually dissipated and his shoulders dropped. "As I recall, you were there when I arrived, and when I made my delivery." The dagger vanished to some impossible place as he relaxed back into the mattress. "The data crystals?"

"We're going through them." Natasha's gun didn't waver. "Did you think turning informant would buy you leniency, after what you did?"

Loki huffed a tired little laugh that turned into a tired little cough. "Hardly." He let his head fall back as his eyes drifted shut. "If you're expecting me to beg for my life now, Agent Romanov, I'm afraid I will only disappoint."

She looked him over appraisingly. "You seem a little less insane this time around."

"I suppose I am off my form somewhat; give it time." The corner of Loki's mouth twitched, as if he were fighting a smile. Then he sobered. "Speaking of time: how long?"

Natasha slowly lowered her weapon and put it away. "You've been asleep for a few days," she said. "Thor was worried."

"Mm. I would have expected a bit more rage, to be honest."

"He did say something about you faking your death." Amusement colored her tone as she added, "We took him to California to work through his feelings. They had been going through a drought; they're not, anymore."

The smile, tired though it was, reached Loki's eyes. "Clever." He winced again and rubbed at his throat. "I don't suppose there is any water to be had here. If nothing else, I believe the Man of Iron still owes me a drink." He rolled his head to look at her. "Unless you are still planning to execute me, in which case, you need not trouble yourself with gestures of hospitality."

"Polite." There was a pitcher and plastic cups next to Natasha's chair, carefully placed out of Loki's reach. "You really think Thor would let us kill you?" she asked as she poured.

"Well, I have been dead ever since the Convergence, as far as he knew; it's not like it would be much of a change for him." He accepted the cup and took a slow mouthful, swallowing carefully. "My thanks."

"You underestimate him."

"When he first enlisted my help _during_ the Convergence, his promised reward for helping him avenge our mother's murder and save the Nine Realms was to be returned to my cell for the rest of my days. Four thousand years, to be spent in utter solitude. His _reward_ , mind you." He drank the rest of the water greedily. "He told me, before releasing me, that he'd once had hope that the brother he loved was still inside me somewhere; then he said that such hope had been extinguished, and he would kill me without remorse should I betray him."

Natasha took that in. "So why come back?"

Loki sighed. "Because Thor may no longer be loyal to me, but he remains loyal to Asgard, and to protecting her empire. Thanos threatens all the Nine, and infinite realms beyond. Thor will fight. If he has any intelligence—or at least, any intelligent friends to whom he actually listens—then he will also inform the other realms, so that they may prepare as well."

Loki's eyes drifted shut again. Natasha took the cup from him, startling him a little, and refilled it. "I think Thor's loyalty might surprise you," she said, sitting back down.

"I will admit to a degree of surprise that he has not yet dragged me back to Asgard in chains." He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the broken links, dangling from the handcuff he still wore. Awkwardly, he brought his wrist up to his chest, where he could reach it with his bound arm; then, with a touch and a flash of green light, the cuff opened and he pulled it free.

"I also think you're trying to pretend you're not still loyal to him." Loki looked at her with the beginnings of a glare, and she smirked. "He did mention that you saved his life, and Dr. Foster's, more than once." Her smirk widened. "You died a _hero_ , according to him."

"Heroes," he scoffed. "How naïve. I prefer a bit more practicality to motivate my labors." He drank a little more water. "So what did he do, after his rage was spent?"

"He went back to Asgard," said Natasha. "He wanted to pick up a few more of those crystal readers, plus a couple people to speed up the translation."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "He didn't try to take me back there? Or bring his friends here, to chain me up and stand watch themselves?"

Natasha paused, waiting until Loki looked her in the eye. "Before he took off, we found the crystal that described Chitauri prisons. Also Chitauri torture methods, and the best ways to resist them."

Loki turned away to stare at the far wall. "Ah. So it was pity that stopped him."

"Maybe." She shrugged and leaned back in her seat. "Your report was… pretty detailed."

Loki was silent for a long moment, but Natasha did not fill the gap in conversation. Finally he licked his lips and spoke, though he still did not look her way. "…I had rather a lot of time to collect that information."

Natasha nodded and leaned back in her chair. "It explains a lot about the invasion three years ago. Sabotaging yourself?"

Again, Loki said nothing; this time, however, she only nodded and let it go. "He gave us a few reasons for keeping you here, everything from politics to your health. He even considered what he thought you might want."

"He grows less imbecilic every year. There may be hope for him yet." He shifted, then gritted his teeth and reached for his bound shoulder. "I thought this was farther along in healing."

"It was. The bone wasn't aligned properly; they had to re-break it."

As tired as he was, Loki still had it in him to look appalled. "That's barbaric."

"Thor brought four people back with him. They were from someplace called the Academy, except for one friend of his," said Natasha. "Two of them were healers. They did what they could with our facilities. If it helps, they used magic to help speed up the process, and they didn't let us insert an IV. Intravenous hydration," she added in answer to his blank look. She held out her arm and indicated the crook of her elbow. "Basically, you take a hollow needle—"

"How you haven't all died of some sort of plague is beyond comprehension."

Natasha sat back in her chair, looking pleased with herself. "One of the healers said the exact same thing. Sigyn, I think her name was."

Loki went utterly still.

"You know, in our mythology, she's listed as your wife," Natasha pressed, smile widening once more. "Also, goddess of fidelity? Or loyalty, something like that. Something involving a snake, and some entrails…"

Loki relaxed and rolled his eyes. "Do I _look_ like the sort of man to raise a child, Agent Romanov?"

"I dunno, takes all kinds."

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"You called me a 'mewling quim', I think I'm entitled."

Loki sighed, but did not argue the point. "Once, when I was younger, I was bitten by a viper. Its venom, if left untreated, causes blindness, along with the expected excruciating pain. Sigyn was the healer in attendance while I recovered. That is how we met."

"And are you two actually married?"

"How is this any of your business?"

"Well, it's just, if she's your wife, I'll have her come see you first after I go. If not, I'll have Thor come by. I did mention he's been worried."

"And if I tell you I wish to see neither?"

Natasha blinked and tipped her head sweetly. "I won't believe you, but I'll have Tony come and keep you company instead."

Loki lay back once more, resting his eyes, but his tone was amused. "And they call me manipulative. Although, I would have thought you capable of far more subtlety."

She shrugged. "Maybe I'm 'off my form' too."

"I highly doubt it."

The silence built between them again, neither tense nor awkward. Loki had nearly returned to sleep when Natasha next spoke.

"One question, though."

"Mm."

"Did you really think turning yourself blue was going to be an effective disguise?"

Loki took a long, slow breath, rubbing at his eyes. "No, that was unintentional. What you saw was my… native species; the form of my birth, though Thor and I did not know that until relatively recently. I can only assume I reverted to it instinctively, after being released from the forced change you saw in the woods." He shifted in the bed, adjusting his blankets. "You guessed my identity immediately, I take it?"

"I did. Thor did, once he got a look at you. Tony caught it once we were all on the jet. I'm not sure about the others."

"Yet you did not immediately attack."

She shrugged. "Tony and I decided independently of each other that we would wait and see how things played out."

Loki accepted this without comment, and looked at his now-pale hand. "When did I revert to this form?"

"Not until the healers started working on your injuries. Thor said it probably had something to do with the feel of their magic."

"I suppose that makes sense, yes."

Natasha nodded. "Did Sigyn know you're a different species? Before this, I mean?"

He sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" He rolled his head drowsily to meet her eyes again, and she shook her head. "To appease you, then: yes, she is my wife, although legally she is perhaps regarded more as my widow, since I was believed dead. I imagine she was told of my species at some point before coming here, but as we've not seen one another in quite some time, I cannot say for certain."

"You don't care whether or not you see her now?"

Loki rolled his eyes. "I will not say 'yes' and have you decide to use her as leverage to coerce me. I will not say 'no' and have you disbelieve my answer, and attempt to use her anyway. I will say she is asleep, and it would be rude to disturb her slumber."

"How do you know that?"

He did not speak, his eyes falling shut, but held up his good hand for a moment and let green light dance across his fingertips, before letting it fall back to his lap.

"It is the middle of the night," Natasha conceded, "but before you go back to sleep, I am supposed to ask if you want anything to eat."

"Perhaps later, at a more reasonable hour. You may tell the healers I have not eaten full meals in quite some time, so I will not require much. I might have a salmon. Perhaps a few apples with it, or turnips, or a pot of _skause_. Actually the _skause_ might be best."

"An… entire salmon?"

"Only one." He frowned, then opened his eyes again. "Ah, yes. You mortals require smaller amounts. I had forgotten."

"And what is _skause_?"

"Ask Thor." Loki's eyes were already shut, and he was beginning to slur his words. "Your interrogation is about to come to a halt, Agent Romanov. Bother me… bother me later."

Natasha said nothing, but opened the book she'd left lying on the stand.

"Agent Romanov?"

"Yes?"

"I cannot regret my actions, from the… from the last time I was here. Given the need, and the outcome. But I can… wish it'd happened differently. That the things… what I did… that it wasn't necessary."

Natasha watched as his head lolled to the side and his breathing deepened. She stood over him for a moment, studying him, then plucked the cup of water from his limp hand before it could spill, but he didn't even stir.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skause is a kind of stew, basically, that was eaten by the Norse people. Meat, vegetables, lots of healthy stuff.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, remember at the beginning when I said I was trying a different writing style because I was getting bogged down in minutiae while writing Fate's Guardian? I also mentioned that I didn't know how well I'd be able to stick with that new style, and here in Ch 4 you can really see the difference. *sigh* I tried.

"As you can see, if we can figure out these alloys…"

"Okay, but are you sure that term translates exactly as 'cloud'? Because…"

"These equations are _gorgeous_ , I mean, this is gonna revolutionize…"

The common floor of the Avengers' headquarters had been converted, somewhat, into an impromptu work and conference space to examine the information Loki had delivered. Tables were cluttered with both Earth and alien tech, and the room was crowded with people, studying the data crystal displays, taking notes, conversing, and observing. Lounge space was used by both humans and Aesir to argue and compare notes; tech was shoved aside to make room for coffee mugs and plates of food.

"Right, I factored that in, but what about…"

"The frightening thing is that your planet has no defense against the strategies outlined here. This would work quite well, and your people…"

"Hey, is this your mug or my mug? I thought sure I'd set mine down here…"

Loki, standing by the elevator doors, observed the scene unnoticed for a full minute before Jane Foster walked past him, phone in hand.

"Yes, I know the VLA's time slots are awarded by lottery, I'm not in high school. I also know that if you don't want a repeat of the New York invasion from three years ago, you'll slew all receivers to the coordinates we sent you yesterday. …No… no. Yes, I'm serious. Well, that's good to know, I'm sure all those _prestigious_ people will feel so gratified that they got to keep their slots while an invasion was going on."

Dr. Foster spotted Loki and did a double take. "You know what, look. I happen to know the Purdue University team's slot is next on the roster—" She smiled at Loki, then grabbed him by the elbow; he allowed her to pull him across the room. "Because I _spoke with them_ yesterday before I sent you those coordinates. …Yes! Yes they are, completely fine with it, because they're more interested in protecting the planet than they are in bureaucracy. …Okay, no, fine, that was a little unfair. But it won't hurt you to use _one_ time slot to verify these findings, and if I'm right, you're going to be able to convince everybody else that this takes precedence."

She brought him over to a reader displaying a map of the cosmos, currently being studied by two Aesir women, and a third who might have been an elf; all three stopped their work to stare at Loki.

Jane did not appear to notice, finishing her call and turning to look up at him. "So. Hi. I wanted to know why we can only figure out three of the maps on this crystal, and if my idea is right that the others are maps of the same area of sky but from the perspective of different realms."

Loki blinked at her, eyebrows lifting.

"…Oh right! Right, sorry, I get too caught up in my work and—but anyway. Okay, so the last time we met I was possessed, so you probably got the wrong impression…" She trailed off, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear nervously. "But hello. It's, uh, it's been awhile. Are you okay? Thor mentioned you were hurt. I mean, obviously that's why your arm is…" She mimicked the pose, tucked her elbow in close and her hand up near her throat. "But, I mean, are you okay?"

Loki smiled gently. "I am well enough, Jane Foster. Perhaps a bit tired, but I shall recover easily." The smile slid into something a bit more teasing. "Though I admit, I am surprised you haven't already punched me again."

"Yeah, well. You, uh. You saved my life a couple of times, so." She shrugged. "You're still kind of a jerk for letting Thor think you were dead all this time."

"If you are implying that I faked my death deliberately, you are mistaken. I believed that wound to be fatal, just as he did, but when it proved to be otherwise, I chose to take advantage of the opportunity to… sneak around, as he no doubt told you I have a reputation for doing."

"You understate the significance of what you have brought us, my prince," said one of the Aesir, and his eyebrows dipped at her use of the title. "This knowledge may save the Nine Realms."

"That remains to be seen, but it is my hope that the crystals will prove valuable to you."

"Valuable? Try priceless." Jane gestured to the reader's display. "Are you going to help us with these maps?"

Loki's bland expression fell slightly. "Your supposition about the maps is correct, but no. I wished only to see one or two people before I departed."

"Oh. Are you sure? Because it would be a huge help if you were to stick around and fill in anything that we miss. On those or any of the other stuff you brought—"

"Departed? What's this about departed? You can't leave yet." Tony insinuated himself into their circle. "I mean, it's almost lunchtime. It'd be rude." He stopped himself and blinked. "Hey, Jarv? What's the word from the kitchens, anything ready yet?"

Jarvis's voice spoke from overhead. "If you will move to the dining area, sir, you will see that the first portion of the lunch you requested has just been delivered."

"Excellent. Salmon, right?" He turned back to Loki for an instant, then continued on as if he hadn't interrupted himself. "Guys, food's here, somebody clear off the big table and tell Steve he's washing dishes afterward."

Some people responded to the announcement and others didn't, but soon only Tony and Loki were standing beside this particular table. Tony looked Loki up and down, dressed as he was in casual Asgardian wear, with his arm still bound to his chest. "So. Not evil."

Loki's lips thinned in irritation. "Decidedly not _good,_ either. I am no hero, Tony Stark."

Tony only grinned. "Oh please. None of us are. Stick around, you can see for yourself."

Loki studied his face, searching for the hidden meaning to his words. "…You cannot possibly mean to convince me that I am welcome here."

"You still need to collect on that drink I owe you."

Loki just looked at him skeptically.

Tony sighed. "Look. The thing is, motive matters. Doing something horrible because you want to is not the same thing as doing something horrible because it's necessary. Or because you're being forced to."

"That does not in any way change the fact that something horrible has been done. The unquiet dead care not for their murderers' motivations."

There was a wry twist to Tony's lips. "No. Maybe they don't. But the rest of us, who are still alive? We pay attention to that kind of thing. We're the ones who have to decide whether you're someone we can work with, or someone we have to deal with."

Loki nodded distantly. "Since I am still alive, I can only assume you have chosen the former. Unless you merely wish me to heal enough to look presentable for a more public execution."

"God, you're a pessimist. Think of it this way, then: if nothing else, we have a common enemy and you know more about him than we do. We're not going to _execute_ the most knowledgeable guy we have, right when we're getting ready for a war." Tony led Loki into the dining area and handed him an empty plate, then grabbed one for himself. "That's not how we see it, but if that's what you'll accept…"

"That makes far more sense to me than your people deciding to forgive, over nothing more than the gift of a few crystals and the toys needed to view their contents."

"And you just found those crystals lying around, already full of information? You didn't have to do anything but deliver them?"

Loki sighed. "You argue pointless details. I have already told you, I am no hero. I find deeds of so-called selflessness to be hypocritical, and the underlying thirst for glory tiresome."

"Seemed like a pretty selfless act to me." Another man joined their conversation, short, balding. "You went behind enemy lines to gather extensive intel, and brought it back to warn people, when you had every reason to leave us to twist in the wind."

"On the contrary, one could just as easily argue that I merely seek revenge upon Thanos, and am willing to use everyone in the Nine Realms to obtain it."

"Interpretation is a funny thing." The other man gave a bland smile. "You may not remember me. The last time we talked I said you lacked conviction."

Loki paused. "If my memory is correct, you also shot me." Agent Coulson nodded, looking pleased with himself. "As for my convictions: it is not so much that they were lacking as that they were aimed in a different direction. You cannot be faulted for your error in perception. I had put considerable effort into masking my true aims."

"We've gathered that, yes." He nodded toward Loki's bound arm. "Recovering well?"

"I am merely tired, thank you."

"Ah, there you are!" Loki turned to see a woman approaching him, stocky, with iron-gray hair and strong hands. "The Iron Man's unseen servant informed me you were coming. It is good to see you on your feet, my prince."

"Lady Eir." He tipped his head regally. "You flatter me, but I think we both know the truth of my status in the Realm Eternal."

She snorted. "I helped your mother to care for you when you were an infant. I will call you what I like, Odin's temper be damned."

Loki blinked, then his face relaxed into a smile, just a little too wide to be sincere. "Be careful, Lady Eir. It seems treason is catching. And you a Royal Healer."

Tony snickered, he and Agent Coulson both eavesdropping, and Eir glared at all three of them. "There is no treason involved in stating the obvious. You were her son. She was my queen. Therefore, you are my prince." She leaned in close to peer up at his eyes, then give him a thorough once-over with a frown. "How do you fare?"

He sighed quietly, and let the topic go. "I am merely tired. And hungry, I suppose. I owe the rest to your expert care, I am sure."

"I am not surprised about the fatigue, my prince, you've been through quite an ordeal." She held her hand a few inches away from Loki's fractured collarbone, and a golden glow appeared. "Mm. The bone heals well. You should have full use of your arm again in no more than three days' time. Sooner, if we can get a few good meals into you."

Eir took Loki's plate from him, and steered him away from the other men to sit at the table where all the delivered food was laid out. Instead of filling his plate for him, she merely slid over a platter containing an entire baked salmon, and handed him a fork. "You should be able to eat in peace for a few moments, my prince. We've established over the past few days that it is best to let the mortals take their portions first, lest we who are not of Midgard leave them nothing for their own meals. I can only apologize that we have no _skause_. The human cooks made it too well, and no one would stay away from it long enough for me to save a bowl back for you."

He picked up the fork with visible reluctance and a glance toward the door. "This will more than suffice, Lady Eir, thank you."

True to her prediction, the humans filtered in and out in ones and twos, loading their plates and filling their glasses before finding seats in the common work area. Many of them continued their conversations and studies even as they ate. A few looked at Loki curiously, but a glare from Eir turned them away without speaking to him.

"You need not stand watch over me, Lady Eir."

"I shall do as I please with my patient. You have said yourself you are still tired. You ought not waste your energies on useless conversations." Nevertheless, she sat beside him and studied his face. "From the state of you, my prince, you have been on your quest ever since the fall of Malekith. What will you do now, once you are recovered?"

Loki paused, fork in midair. "I am uncertain," he said finally. "Truly, I had not intended to stay beyond delivering those crystals. I only linger now because it seems cruel to leave without saying my farewells to…"

"To Thor and Sigyn?" Eir's smile was kind. "If I may say so, I think they both would prefer to spend longer in your company than that."

Loki shook his head. "Neither of them can afford to be seen with me. And I doubt they are pleased with me right now; no doubt they feel themselves victims of a spiteful deception on my part."

"Perhaps you should let them decide for themselves how they feel, my prince."

He occupied himself with delicately pulling a sliver of fish away from the rest with his fork. "I have not seen either of them—"

"The Lady Sigyn had to be ordered from your side and commanded to sleep rather than wear herself out tending to your injuries. As for your brother…" Lady Eir glanced at something above and behind Loki, and bowed her head briefly.

"My intent, for the most part, was to respect your wishes," said Thor.

"Ah, both princes in the same room—this is a momentous day!"

"Fandral?" Loki turned in his seat to see them both watching him. "I would not have expected you here."

"You have made a habit of returning from the dead, my prince." Fandral spun a chair around and straddled it, as Thor sat next to him. "I wish to learn the technique, for the next time Lord Gunnar catches me with one of his daughters."

"Are all of you going to call me that?" He glanced back and forth between Fandral and Eir. "I don't see how I can be regarded a prince of Asgard, when all my crimes are known and I am not even Aesir."

Fandral shrugged and reached for a plate of peeled orange segments. "Hogun is Vanir."

Loki snorted. " _Vanir_ have not been Asgard's enemies for as long as we all have lived."

Eir chuckled and drummed her fingers on the table. "Maybe not as long as _you_ have lived, my prince, but I have a few more decades upon me than you do. Asgard and Vanaheim were not always at peace, any more than Asgard and Jotunheim are now."

Loki gaped for a second before covering it and returning to his salmon with a shake of his head. "It would seem madness is also catching. Again, Lady Eir, I must suggest you look into that, before it becomes epidemic."

Fandral folded his arms across the back of his chair, and rested his chin on top. "You have always schemed," he said seriously, "and we have not always understood the point to your machinations, mainly because you have never told us what your intentions might be. And yet you were always our friend, even when we were unable to see it. Even if you had some truly misguided ways of showing it. These past few years…" He sighed. "You could have told us."

Loki chuckled humorlessly. "You may tell yourself that if you wish. I will respectfully disagree."

"We could have helped!"

"Again, I must respectfully disagree." He looked over to where Thor had been sitting, silent and drinking his wine. "You are unexpectedly quiet."

"I am torn between embracing you and pounding you into the dirt, both of which Lady Eir tells me would be detrimental to your recovery."

A smile quivered at the edges of Loki's expression. "Ah. It's just like old times, then."

Thor glowered. "I am also trying, still, to listen to you and respect your wishes, rather than drown your words with either my displeasure that you have been gone from me for so long, or my joy that you have returned." His face fell into an expression of profound sorrow. "You have allowed me to believe you dead all this time. You returned, but only in disguise. I could only assume you would not wish me to sit in attendance at your bedside. As for now, I am sorry if you have no interest in speaking to me, brother, but I could not keep myself away from you a moment longer."

Loki took a deep breath, blinking rapidly. "It is not my intent to bring you pain," he said quietly. He would not look up from the table. "But neither is it my intent to stay here."

"But, brother, you could—!" Thor stopped himself with a visible effort. "In the battles to come. We could use you."

Loki stabbed at his salmon forcefully. "I have had rather enough of being _used_ , by Asgard or anyone else."

"It is more than that." The sorrow returned to Thor's face. "I would prefer to have you near. But if this is what you truly desire…"

"It…" His hand fell still, but he still would not look up to meet Thor's gaze. "…Yes."

The other man took this in with a resigned nod. "Then will you at least give me a means of contacting you? Or a promise to send word, every now and again? I have already twice borne the pain of thinking myself forever parted from you, brother; I cannot endure that pain a third time."

Loki swallowed heavily, visibly upset, and would not answer.

Finally, Fandral got up from his seat, collecting a few more orange segments from the tray. He rested a hand, gently, on Loki's good shoulder. "You may not believe it, and we've not given you much reason to rely on us even before you disappeared… but we want you back, lackwit. Get your nose out of your books and look around you." It was an old taunt from their youth, repeated often and laden with memories; Fandral spoke it gently this time, leaving it lying quietly between them as he left the table, patting Thor's shoulder once before he disappeared.

Loki shut his eyes and swallowed again, once, twice. Thor eventually slid his glass of wine across the table, and Loki drank from it with a hand that only barely shook.

"How long before you leave, then?" asked Thor.

"I had not expected to stay even this long, but if—"

"Loki?"

He started in surprise as Eir and Thor both looked up, then rose to his feet and turned to face her. "Sigyn."

"Hello, my husband." Tears stood in her eyes, but she was smiling as she took a step forward.

Loki met her halfway, holding out his hand and letting her clasp it in both of hers. "Hello, my wife." They stood gazing into one another's eyes for a long moment.

"How do you fare?" she asked finally, her voice trembling.

Loki seemed to sag as he stepped closer, reaching up to trace the curve of her cheek. "I am tired." His hand fell until he was resting his fingertips on her waist; he closed his eyes and bent his head so that his nose was nearly touching her hair. "Oh, Sigyn. I am so tired, my wife."

Sigyn gave a little sob, and slipped under his arm to rest her head on his chest without jostling his injuries. "Then you ought to rest, my husband." She held him tight as tears began to fall. "Come home. Rest with me."

He held her, just as tightly, breathing her in. "I've wandered for so long… I cannot stay here, nor return to Asgard; I do not know where I shall go next… and I am so _tired_ , Sigyn…"

"You've come to journey's end. Rest with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference: Purdue University is second only to MIT in number of graduates who have gone on to become astronauts (outside of the military). Neil Armstrong and Eugene Cernan, the first and last men to walk on the moon, both graduated from Purdue, as did Gus Grissom and quite a few others. Purdue grads have flown on roughly 37% of all US space missions from the 1960s to the present day, and two of the six astronauts on the space station Mir were from Purdue. So, you know, it seemed okay to take their name in vain here.
> 
> Also: The "VLA" is the Very Large Array, a collection of radio telescopes (basically dish antennae) in New Mexico that can be moved on tracks into different configurations and work as a unit to act like one giganimous signal receiver for whatever is out there in space. In the movie "Contact" based off Carl Sagan's novel, they used CGI to roughly triple the number of antennae that actually exist.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to mention that I picture the scenes from Coriolanus between Caius Martius and Virgilia, played by Birgitte Hjort Sørensen, as the Loki and Sigyn here. Tender yet intense, tons of emotion packed into a relatively restrained display.

Eir made him finish his meal. Sigyn made him lie down afterward, sharing her bed with him and running her fingers through his hair as he slept.

Thor and Fandral made them both join Eir and the human Avengers afterward. It was not quite evening, and the winter sunlight streamed through the windows where they had gathered, painting their faces and the air with feeble gold.

"I have done enough," he was trying to tell them, but they were not listening. "I am no warrior, to go charging back into battle after I have left the field."

A roomful of people who had once been his enemies, save for Eir and Sigyn, and they wanted to keep him as a battle partner rather than a prisoner. They offered him hospitality rather than insults and slung stones; wanted him to stay and join them rather than demanding he get out of their sight.

Fandral ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "You cannot have left the field, my prince, for the enemy yet marches to our doorstep. Soon enough, the battle will come to you."

It had been over an hour of such arguments, and finally Loki's temper snapped. "The battle has already come to me! I was thrown into it instead of dying as I should have!"

Everyone froze in shock.

"Did Thor not tell you?" He looked around the room, eyes a little wild. "I meant to die. I was not supposed to survive when I let go of the Bifrost and fell into the Void, but the Norns are cruel. I was not supposed to survive being _shaped_ by Thanos and the Chitauri on that forsaken rock, but they needed to _use_ me. I was not supposed to survive the battle on Midgard, Thanos would not have been able to _reach_ me once I was dead, but the Avengers played at righteous heroes, or were simply unable to end me themselves, and turned me over to Asgard's justice. I was not supposed to survive that trial, but Frigga prevailed upon Odin's wrath. I was not supposed to survive the encounter with Malekith and his Kursed, I had a blade shoved _clear through my body_ , but I could not be granted death even then! After that I thought the Norns must want me to take my vengeance on Thanos, or to do my duty to the Nine Realms, so I have spent the past two years doing _nothing_ but plotting and scheming and infiltrating, sabotaging and murdering and stealing, two years of _constant_ running and hiding. All in order to gather this information and safeguard it, to bring back to you. _Everything_ else was lost to me; that was the _only_ reason I kept myself alive."

Thor looked stricken, Fandral sorrowful; Sigyn had a hand to her mouth, tears shimmering in her eyes.

Loki's voice wavered but he no longer cared to control it. "For the past two years without cease, I have played spy and I have played courier, and three days ago I finally, _finally_ delivered my package. It was finally _over_ , I could finally rest. Now you all are trying to convince me that my part is still not done? Was I not diligent? Is it not enough?" His breath heaved, and he turned away, facing the windows, refusing to weep in front of an audience. His fist clenched at his side and his voice lowered. "Is nothing I do ever enough?

"I was not supposed to survive the delivery of those crystals, either," he confessed finally. "And yet here you all are, showing your damnable mercy to a hated foe."

He stood with his back to them, head bowed and chest heaving, in a silence none dared break. Sigyn got to her feet and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle, but Loki stood rigid as a statue, except for the clenching and unclenching of his fist.

"Loki," Thor tried tentatively. "You have done well. Please, do not think that we do not value your efforts; you have brought us knowledge that can save the Nine Realms, or at the very least give them a fighting chance against Thanos when he comes. You have acquitted yourself with honor; all the Realms shall know of your courage, will glorify your deeds—"

"No, they will not." Loki held up a hand and turned back to face them, shaking his head tiredly. "There was nothing of honor or glory to it. I began this journey as the worst sort of coward Asgard can name: a suicide. In all the time since, I have done nothing that Asgard would deem worthy to redeem that act, much less my other crimes. I have _not_ been honorable. I have been practical, I have been efficient; I have been ruthless. I have not _fought fair_. I have lurked in shadows and impersonated others. I have lied and deceived and betrayed. I have played thief rather than warrior. I sought expedience rather than glory. You all try to claim that I am some sort of hero because I have brought you this information, but Asgard would spit upon me if they knew how I obtained it. None of what I have done will ever be spoken of in the mead halls with anything but scorn."

Fandral leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "If not for word-fame, then why did you do it? Why come back? Before the Convergence, all thought you hated Asgard and would be happy to see the Realms burn. Afterward, we believed you dead. You need not ever have revealed yourself to us, nor embarked upon this quest, this task. Yet you did."

Loki sighed heavily. "…Atonement, perhaps. Or revenge, as I claimed earlier. Or to aid Thor, or protect Sigyn, though we have been long parted. Or…" He glanced away, and his voice was very quiet when he began again. "I was king, once. Briefly. Disastrously. But I thought I was a true king of Asgard, acting in her best interests. I did not swear the oaths of kingship publicly, but I did swear them. Before the ravens, with Gungnir in my hand." The fingertips of his good hand rubbed together. "Perhaps I merely did not wish to be forsworn."

"You wanted to prove yourself," said Tony, as Fandral nodded in agreement. "Clear your name."

Loki gave a bitter chuckle. "One would think I had long since outgrown such a childish impulse."

"But brother." Thor sat forward, studying Loki's face. "You have succeeded. With these data crystals, we have learned the truth; you are vindicated. And more than that besides; the All-Father—"

"I care nothing for the All-Father's reaction," Loki snapped. "Not anymore."

"You did not let me finish. The All-Father… will not rule for much longer."

Loki blinked, stunned.

"He yet lives, but is already old, my prince," said Eir. "And the past few years have weighed upon him heavily. Grief and bitterness affect his judgment. And yes, regret for failing his younger son, and losing him thereby." She tucked her hands into the sleeves of her robe, her face somber. "I tell you now, as Royal Healer: he has perhaps a score of years left to him, before he reaches the end of his days."

Fandral added quietly, "There are rumblings among the people. Discontent. I do not speak of anything dire—we are all loyal to Asgard, as we have ever been—but there are those who have begun to question his fitness, to ask whether it is kind or merciful to demand that he continue to bear the burden of the crown."

Thor was equally somber. "One way or another, Loki, I will soon be king. Much though I would prefer to remain here, on Midgard, the privilege and comfort in which we were raised demands that I do my duty in recompense. One day, I will rule Asgard. And on that day, one of my first acts will be to exonerate you. To tell everyone, from the throne, the truth of your journey and your struggles. I will sing it as a saga if I must, but Asgard and all the Nine will know how you have served them."

Loki swallowed heavily. "That assumes the Nine Realms still exist by then," he deflected. "But even so. I… I cannot join you in this fight. I have fought without respite since the day I fell from the Bifrost. Now, I wish only to rest." He closed his eyes for a second, every inch of his face and line of his posture saying, _please._

"But not to die," said Thor.

"Not to die," said Sigyn softly, stroking her hand along the side of his face. "Please. I've only just regained you."

Loki sighed, and they could all hear the pain and exhaustion in it. "If you wish it, I will… well. I will remain. But not here. I may not be granted death, but I will have my rest no matter what the rest of you demand."

"For how long?" Heads turned as Tony spoke from the corner of the room. "I can understand needing to take a break. Most of us here can. How long do you need? More to the point… how long till Thanos gets here?"

"I know not."

"But in the meantime? What's wrong with giving yourself a break, but leaving it open as to whether or not you'll come back?"

"You seek to bind me here with chains of duty! Before I was a prisoner for my wrongdoing, now—what, am I to be a prisoner out of guilt and obligation?"

"You will not be able to stay away forever, my husband," said Sigyn. Thor and Fandral both nodded knowingly.

Loki huffed in annoyance. "No, because you will refuse to leave me be in the end, no matter how I protest. O-or you say this because Thanos will come, sooner or later, and my respite will be cut short."

She shook her head. "That was not what I meant, true though it may be that Thanos is coming. But no, I wished to say that I agree, that you do deserve your rest, my husband; you have more than earned it. But I think you will not be able to keep _yourself_ from returning, should we have need of you."

"And we will have need, as Lady Sigyn puts it," said Agent Coulson.

"Yes, so you've been telling me for the past hour," Loki replied flatly. "What will it take for you to grasp that I _do not want this?_ "

"The fact that you're resisting our point doesn't make it less valid." Coulson shrugged blandly. "No one else here knows this intel the way you do; you're the one who gathered it. We're not asking you to go hunting for more, but having you here where we can ask you to clarify—fill in the details, flesh out plans—your help in that regard would be invaluable."

"A room full of willing pupils, and you to teach them," said Eir, raising an eyebrow and smiling. When Loki only stared at her, looking betrayed, she sobered. "I do not mean to say that you must do such a thing immediately, my prince, nor even that you must do it at all. I only think that you would enjoy _having_ such a thing, once you have been given time to recover from your journeys."

Loki licked his lips, clearly torn.

"Nobody's telling you that you haven't earned a vacation." Tony folded his arms and shrugged. "You don't even have to stay here—although why wouldn't you, all-expenses-paid luxury—but yeah, as long as you're somewhere on Earth and you keep in touch, you could take all the personal time you need. Just, you know, check your email. Answer questions if we have any. That kind of thing."

Loki frowned as if he hadn't thought of that option before now, the idea that he might be allowed to live and to have anything to live for. That he might be able to recuperate without having to isolate himself from everyone out of self-preservation.

They all watched Loki expectantly. "I will not stay here," he said finally, "but I will consider your suggestion. I… could possibly make myself available to you." He looked away and added bitterly, "Make myself _useful_."

"Don't get bent out of shape, honey, we're all useful here." Tony saluted him with his drink. "Seriously. Take a look around."

"It's true," added Natasha. "Even your friend Fandral is here for a reason."

"My lady, you wound me!"

The laughter that followed was not completely uninhibited, but it did help to dispel the tension in the room. People shifted position here and there, or reached for a bit of refreshment.

Tony brought Loki and Sigyn drinks. "Should I get somebody to say sorry for pushing? Not me, I suck at apologies, but Steve could probably say it and mean it."

"There is no need." Loki sighed. "It appears I have little choice in the matter. Thanos is too great a threat to weigh against my own weariness."

The rest of the tension in the room, the intent, worried focus on him from Thor and the other Aesir, dissolved once they heard his assent. Conversations picked up, and Loki and Sigyn were coaxed back to a seat together on one of the sofas.

"You know nobody here is asking you to run yourself into the ground, right? I mean, yeah, we want your help, but you don't have to kill yourself to—okay, bad choice of words." Tony covered his blunder with a quick sip from his own glass. "But the offer to stay here and recuperate still stands. You can start helping once you're ready."

"I understand, but I will not stay. I… If I am to live, then I require a space of my own. I've been without one now for too long." Loki thought for a moment. "The best I can offer you right now is a pledge not to vanish forever. When I am ready, you will hear from me, but I will not be rushed." He glanced at Thor, then back to Tony, and sighed again. "Is this acceptable?"

"It pleases me well, brother."

Tony nodded thoughtfully. "If you're not going to stay here, where will you go?"

"I do not know. I… had not planned that far, for obvious reasons. And in any case, for the past two years I have slept in a different place nearly every night. I have been entirely focused on accomplishing my quest. Now that I have done so…"

"Now that the pressure's off, you're not quite sure what to do with yourself?"

"Something like that, yes." Loki tasted his drink. "I must remain on your world, correct?"

"It'd be helpful, yeah."

Loki frowned and looked away in reluctant acceptance.

"Oh! Midgard." Sigyn stroked his upper arm with the backs of her fingers. "Do you still keep that home you showed me once, on the shores of the freshwater sea?"

Loki stilled at that, frowning thoughtfully. He looked down at her and she smiled.

"You bought a house here on Earth?" asked Tony.

"No. I built it." His frown began to clear. "Perhaps three hundred fifty years ago." A smile, tired as it was, teased the corner of his mouth at the reaction from the others, especially the nearby humans. "It was meant to be a retreat of sorts, for contemplation or study, whenever Asgard became too… tiresome."

"So that is where you always disappeared to!" Fandral looked as though he'd had a major epiphany.

"Not _always_." Loki took another swallow of his drink and leaned a little into Sigyn's embrace. "But yes, I still have it."

"And things have been plenty tiresome lately," said Tony.

Loki gave a broken little laugh. "You have no idea."

"I dunno, I might be able to guess." Tony leaned back in his seat and contemplated the pair of them. "Okay. So, you're going to go to your house, that apparently you've had on this planet for long enough to make a few people deeply uncomfortable," he smirked at Coulson; "what will you do while you're there?"

Loki looked into Sigyn's eyes; she smiled sweetly at him and stroked the side of his face, making his eyes fall shut. "It seems hard to believe, my husband, does it not?"

"Indeed, nearly impossible, my wife."

"But it is true, nevertheless."

"Will you be with me?"

"Without question. Always. You need never ask me that, my love."

Loki took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his whole body relaxed. He tightened his good arm around Sigyn, and rubbed his cheek across the top of her head. He raised his eyes to look at Tony without moving.

"I think that, for the first time in a very long time, I will not have need to answer that question. I will take time to think, to recover. To be with my wife.

"But above all, I shall finally rest, as you all acknowledge I have earned."

"You have, my prince." Fandral leaned forward to tap his glass against Loki's. "You most certainly have."

"Perhaps, in time," offered Eir, "you will be able to consider your future and not see it so empty. Perhaps you will be able to accept that you _have_ a future, and take it up with both hands once more."

SIgyn snuggled deeper into Loki's side, and he let out a long, slow, breath. His shoulders dropped by degrees, and the furrow between his eyebrows smoothed.

"That… that might be nice. It bears further contemplation, I've not—I've not really permitted myself to think of such things, but…"

"You need not think of it right now, my husband."

Loki considered her quietly until she looked up at him, curious, and he bent forward and kissed her.

"You are correct. For now, my wife, I need only rest." He kissed her again, and his eyes fluttered shut as he touched his forehead to hers. "For the first time in years, I may wake in the morning and see the new day as a reward and not a curse."

He hadn't failed, and now he could rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it! I worked this chapter over several times, and I'm still not completely sure of it, but it's better than it was, so here you are. Thanks for reading and commenting; if you want to leave extra kudos, you're welcome to stop by [my Tumblr blog](http://peaceheather.tumblr.com) and say hello.

**Author's Note:**

> Would it be fishing to say I would love to see some fanart of the bits I've depicted so far? Because I really would.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Finally, A Respite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823528) by [Annatara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annatara/pseuds/Annatara)




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